Hands Down
by Adaren
Summary: I figured Ron has been getting quite the short end of the stick. It's Hermione's turn to be jealous. Yelling and revelations ensue. *Completed*


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Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the sap and a strange drive to write some bad R/Hr fluff. All of the other stuff is JKR's. Title comes from my favorite Dashboard Confessional song. 

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A/N: Ahh, sixth year R/Hr ficlets. I know that I should be working on chapter 3 of SK, but I just got a R/Hr plot bunny and I get so few of those, I figured I needed to take advantage of it while I had it. Yes, I realize that in OotP we learned that boys couldn't go into the girl's dormitories. Unfortunately, I wrote about half of this fic before the book came out, so can we just assume (pretend?) that, in their sixth year, this, uh, isn't there? Hmm? I swear to god, if I get any reviews yelling at me for that, I'll flip out… XD I apologize if it seems as if the… end comes a little bit too soon, this thing was just getting ridiculously long (about 1500 more words than I'd planned) so I just kind of… ended it. Also, this isn't beta-ed, so be kind, eh? 

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Hands Down

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Yet Another Ron/Hermione Ficlet

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Summary: I figured Ron has been getting quite the short end of the stick. It's Hermione's turn to be jealous. Yelling and revelations ensue. 

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My heart is yours to fill of burst

Or break or bury

Or wear as jewelry 

Whichever you prefer

--Dashboard Confessional, "Hands Down"

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_He. Was. So. Obnoxious_!

Hermione stomped up the stairs towards her dorm, seething. Who the devil did he think he was, anyway? Just because the bloody idiot had gotten _good_ at Quidditch keeper this year… Hermione could have sworn that his already overly large cranium had swelled to at least double the size it had been before. And Padma bloody Patil! She wasn't even supposed to be in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione stopped outside the door, mulling this over. Why, I could go right back down there and send her back to Ravenclaw where she belongs! 

She was fingering her prefect's badge and halfway turned around when she heard feet at the foot of the stairs. _Large_ feet, by the sound of it. Hermione sucked in her breath, flew into her dorm, and slammed the door, leaning against it wearily. She yelped when it was suddenly pushed open, her body weight pushing it closed, her head slamming against the ancient wood. There was another yell and Hermione cringed. She cautiously opened the door, rubbing the back of her heard as she peered out onto the landing. 

Ron was standing there, scowling furiously, sucking on his knuckles. "What the bloody hell did you do that for, Er-my-knee?"

"What happened? Are you all right?"

"I'll live… look around on the floor, see if you can find my fingers, Pomprey'll be able to sew 'em back on."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She gingerly touched the back of her head again and winced when she felt a small bump forming. "Well I now have a golf ball sized lump on the back of my head, thanks to you."

"What's a golf ball?" He asked, smirking, starting to come forward into the dorm. 

She gasped and put a hand out to stop him. "Ron, what are you doing!" she hissed. "You know you're not allowed in here!"

He removed his hand from his mouth and grinned. "What, are you going to turn me in, prefect?"

"Ron Weasley, you're a prefect yourself and you know it!"

"Oh, Hermione… I try to forget that as much as possible, don't you know that by now?"

She scowled, and said, "Why do you want to come in, anyway?"

"We obviously need to talk, Hermione. You have issues."

"_I_ have issues!" she gasped indignantly. "_You're_ the one down there, drooling over…" She could feel warmth spreading into her cheeks, and looked down. 

It was only then when she realized that the hand she'd reached out to bar his entrance remained on his chest, her fingers splayed across his heart. Her eyes widened and she snatched it away, trying to ignore the tingling feeling that traveled up her arm.

"So you're going to let me in then?"

"All right," she grumbled, turning and slowly walking back into the room.

He followed her and sat on the nearest bed. "You know, I think these beds are much softer than ours." He bounced up and down a bit. "Yes, definitely. Quite an obvious display of sexism, and right here in our own school!" He looked back up at Hermione, who was watching him with a mixed expression of exasperation and amusement. "Whose bed is this, anyway?"

She cocked her head. "Why?"

"Just curious, is all."

"Parvati's. Ron, what do you want, anyway? You don't want to do keep Padma waiting, do you?" She hoped she'd kept the bitterness in her voice to a bare minimum. 

Ron raised an eyebrow, bringing his fingers to his mouth again. "She's still down there," he muttered around his knuckles. "What was all that about, then? I thought you liked Padma."

Avoiding his eyes, she turned around and walked towards the window, not really seeing the snow covered grounds. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said primly. 

Though she wasn't looking at him, she could picture the incredulous look on his face perfectly. "Right. Like I believe that for a second." She could hear the mattress squeak as he stood up and walked towards her, stopping a few feet away. "Really, Hermione, if something's bothering you, you can tell me."

She'd started to smile to herself before she remembered that she was furious with him. She crossed her arms and whirled around to face him. Gah, he was closer than she'd thought. Hermione regained her composure and forced her frostiest glare on him. "Ron, I am perfectly fine. I have a huge amount of…" she racked her brain for a school subject he didn't take, "…arithmancy to do, and I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone."

"Oh please. Hermione, it's the second day of Christmas holidays! Not even you get your work finished so quickly. And besides, I didn't come up here to get my fingers decapitated for nothing."

In truth, she'd finished her arithmancy homework two nights before, but that was a moot point. "Then what did you come up here for, might I ask?"

"I already told you!" He said agitatedly, running his hand through his hair. "You know what, forget it. It doesn't matter." He turned back towards the door. 

Hermione's breath caught, and her brain descended into a daze, unable to think of sentences more than one word long. Several words flashed into her brain, in no particular order: _Ron_, _Padma_, _no_, _stop_, _common room_. 

  
"Wait!" she breathed. 

Ron paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a moment before he turned around and looked at her again. "Yeah?"

Hermione let out an explosive breath. "Ron… Ron, _you're_ my problem!"

"Don't interrupt me," she snapped when he opened his mouth to reply. "You, sitting down there, preening as girls who are normally sensible make complete fools over themselves -- over you! I just can't believe how much you've changed this year -- because of Quidditch, of all things! You make me ill-"

When he cut her off, his voice was very quiet. His ears, however, were a brilliant scarlet and his fists were clenched. "Hermione, I don't think that _you_ are one to talk about preening…" He shot her a very pointed look and turned to leave again. 

Hermione stared at his retreating back for a moment before screeching, "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" 

Ron slowly turned around again. He raised his eyebrows and began speaking in a falsely high voice. "Ooooh, Vicky, visit you in Bulgaria? I'd _love_ to! Ron, leave me _alone_, I can't be _bothered_ by your pathetic Quidditch skills and immaturity, I'm writing another _novel_ to Vicky!"

By this point, Ron had abandoned his Hermione impression and was simply shouting. Hermione had begun yelling back at him, and of course, this just resulted in their yells becoming screams as they each attempted to screech louder so as to be heard by the other. Naturally, this didn't work.

"Ron that is absolutely not true-"

"-Oh, Vicky, you'll teach me how to fly? _Thank _you!"

"I didn't even visit him in Bulgaria and you know it!"

"-Vicky! Go snog on your Firebolt? I thought you'd never ask!"

"RON WEASLEY, I NEVER SNOGGED HIM!" Hermione screamed, her face a brilliant red and her hair, which had previously been up in a neat bun, had fallen down about her shoulders like a bushy cloud. 

"OH REALLY?" Ron roared back. "Ron he's just my pen pal, I'm allowed to have a pen pal if I want, we don't _snog_!"

"I just told you that WE DON'T!"

"Ron, next time there's a ball ask me first and _not_ as a last resort! I'm going to try and convince you that I _do_ fancy you, and then continue to write novels to Vicky every evening in the common room _right in front of you_!"

"Well if you knew I fancied you, WHY DIDN'T YOU DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, YOU PRAT?!"

"WELL IF _YOU_ KNEW THAT _I_ FANCIED _YOU_, WHY DID YOU KEEP RUBBING MY FACE IN VIKTOR BLOODY KRUM?!"

Though Ron hadn't noticed it at the time, when Hermione had finished speaking -- er, yelling -- she'd slapped her hands over her mouth and was looking at him in horror above her fingers. It was seeing Hermione in such a state of shock that made him realize precisely what _he_ had said. 

Ron's mind went blank. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, probably for the fiftieth or sixtieth time since he'd been up there and muttered, "Er…"

"Ron, your fingers!"

Hermione was next to him in a second, it seemed, pulling his hand from his hair and inspecting his bloodied fingers. He looked down at them dumbly, noticing the bruising and blood for what seemed the first time. 

In truth, he was still a few moments in the past. Hadn't he and Hermione just been having one of their blistering rows? Admittedly, that row was a bit worse than their usuals, but now what was Hermione doing, looking at his knuckles, running her fingers over the bruises? Pulling out her wand and murmuring a healing spell over the jagged gash from which a trickle of blood still flowed? She damn well knew that magic wasn't supposed to be used in the dorms… 

Ron was having a bit of trouble thinking by that point, as Hermione had put her wand away but she hadn't moved her fingers. She took a deep breath and looked up at him, murmuring, "I'm sorry."

"You… you what?"

"Well you don't have to act so shocked about it," she grumbled. 

"No… but wait, sorry for what?"

"For smashing your fingers… can you move this one? It looks like it could be sprained…" When he'd moved the finger a satisfactory amount, she continued. "Ron, do you really thing I _preened_?"

He paused a moment, slowly pulling his hands away from hers. He tended to think better when he wasn't touching her. He stepped back a bit, which also improved his mental capacity. "Hermione…" he said slowly, "I don't think, say, Harry would have found it preening. But when you fancy someone as much as I fancied you… well…" He shrugged, and began to turn around -- again. 

Hermione was still standing exactly where she had been before, her heart having curiously ceased to beat at one of his words. "Ron… fanc_ied_?"

She had a full view of his profile, and he closed his eyes for a moment before facing her. "I guess that depends."

"On what?"

"On you."

"How do you mean?"

"I need to know what's going on. With you and Vick -- Viktor. I need to know what you feel for him and I need to know what you feel for… me." Ron had kept up a surprisingly calm speech up 'til that point, though his voice was strained and he'd started to blush again. "Hermione, I can't do what we've been doing for the past two years. This… arrangement isn't working anymore…"

Tears had gathered in her eyes, and when she spoke her voice cracked. "I'm sorry Ron."

He paled, leaving his face splotchy, and let out an explosive breath. "So… you do like him? Hermione, that's all you had to say and I would have left you alone a long time ago--"

"No!" She'd crossed the room and stopped too close to him. She really had no idea what she was going to say, and for one of the first times in her life she didn't think. She just spoke. "Ron, no! I don't like him as anything more than a friend, but you… Ron, I…"

He looked down at her, brow furrowed, his eyes flicking across her face. "Say it."

She blinked. "Say… What? Ron what are you talking about?"

"Say it. 'I… fancy you… Ron." He smirked. 

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "No!" she exclaimed indignantly. "You prat, I don't know why I even bother…" She made to turn around but he grabbed her arm. 

"What are you doing? Ron, let me go. Ron, I FANCY YOU, now let go of me!" She yelled, stumbling when he released her suddenly. 

"All y'had to say, mate." He looked at her intently then, before tentatively reaching out a hand to touch her curls. He ran the hair between his thumb and forefinger for a moment before releasing it, looking up at Hermione's snort. "What?"

"I just… my hair…"

"What about it?"

"It's horrible!"

"I like it."

There was a strange sort of glow growing inside of Hermione at that point and she started to smile, looking up at his familiar face. "Really?"

He rolled his eyes. Then he coughed awkwardly. "Well, I, uh, better…" He trailed off and coughed again. 

Somewhere along the line, the space between them had been closed up, and Hermione swallowed nervously. His hand was hanging by his side and she slowly reached down to take it. She gingerly ran her fingers over the mottled bruises again and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. 

Ron groaned silently and drew in a shaky breath. He held her hand a little bit tighter and slid his other hand around her waist. 

"Ron," she whispered. 

Then suddenly, her free hand was cradling his face and she was kissing him, rising up onto her toes to get closer.

Once he got past his shock, he kissed her back, his hand leaving her waist to tangle itself in her hair. She jumped slightly when she felt his tongue tracing her lips, but without her noticing, it seemed her mouth had opened under his. Their bodies were pressed together, and suddenly her hands were at the base of his neck, running through his hair. 

Hermione couldn't think, all she knew was that she was drowning, drowning in heat, and senses, and _Ron_, and when she felt his fingers sliding up her ribcage outside of her sweater, and when she realized Ron Weasley was snogging her senseless, she was happy. 

Oh yes, she was happy. 


End file.
